


A Bottle of Kanar

by twatwaffle



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Gender/Sexuality, Alien Sex, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Cardassians, Frottage, M/M, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-05
Updated: 2013-06-05
Packaged: 2017-12-14 01:48:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/831318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twatwaffle/pseuds/twatwaffle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Julian hasn't ever waited this long to pursue and bed a sexual interest. With a plan in place, he finally tries to seduce Garak into joining him in bed, hoping that a bottle of kanar at Quark's can ease the transition. Will Bashir get to have his first Cardassian in bed?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Bottle of Kanar

[about 3 months after "The Wire"]

Bashir couldn't stop thinking about what happened to Garak three months ago. He found himself pacing during his off-duty times, his lanky figure circling the Promenade, and then the habitat ring, at a pace that was just fast enough to be uncanny. His brisk walks were to help him get his mind off of things, but it wasn't working.He tried to get Chief O'Brien, his best friend, into one of Quark's adventure holosuite programs a few extra times, but then he was still busy with his family duties. _Quite understandable_ , he thought to himself. 

He went back to Quark's bar, this time to drink. Sitting next to Morn, he started talking to the large, grey, androgynous alien. Morn would always listen, had a unique perspective, and usually had good advice. Furthermore, he knew how to keep a secret. This problem had been burning inside him for quite some time. He'd have to let the loud music, the squeals and yells of happy gamblers shouting "Dabo!" with the help of the scantily-clad ladies, and the constant bustle and movement around him meld into the background, so he could actually focus on the conversation. He ordered a synthale for himself, and since he didn't know what Morn was actually drinking, just asked the attentive Ferengi bartender to grab another glass of whatever he was drinking for him. Garak had warned him playfully about free advice at one of their lunches together, and advice paid for with a drink would come liberally. "Morn, I know you've seen how I pursue potential conquests, so to speak..." Bashir's slim, brown face suddenly looked frustrated. Not with Morn, but with himself. He forgot to add context. _I spend too much time in my own head, sometimes..._ "Let me back up, Morn; my mind has been spinning lately with this issue, and I think your unique perspective would help. Let me know if you need another drink, I know this won't be my first." So, with the context set, he should give Morn a bit more detail. Just....not too much.

"Okay, so Morn, I met someone when I first came to the station, and felt an instant connection. Usually once there's a connection like that, I don't hesitate to announce my intent the the person. I've never been quite so nervous as I am with them, though." While Bashir was known to enjoy the flesh of both men and women, he wasn't sure how Morn felt about the topic, nor did he want to give away the gender of the person he was attracted to, that didn't really matter.

I'm losing sleep over them at this point is all, and I'm wondering if I should risk trying to start something with this person, or try and forget them. At this point, I feel as if it's an all-or-nothing deal." Bashir noticed movement within his peripheral vision range. Oh, great...him. 

"Rule of acquisition number 60: The riskier the road, the greater the profit, my friend," Quark apparently had been listening. "You know, everyone already sees you two together," he whispered, "If you don't go for it soon, then you'll drive yourself mad with what-if scenarios." He started pouring another drink, using a bottle of such size that made his tight-fitting and expensive jacket stretch at the shoulder seam just a little. "Also, buy another drink for Morn, rule of acquisition number 58: Free advice is seldom cheap, and I know that he doesn't drink anything expensive, or else he couldn't stay here all day. My customers have to pay to keep their seats warm." He flashed his sharp-tooth, classic Ferengi-style smile at Bashir, then bowing with his wrists together, his hands apart, and fingers curled inward, in the Ferengi display of subservience. "I'll be back!" It was almost a threat of his continuing to eavesdrop on the conversation. 

Morn looked up and thanked Bashir. Julian let himself think about the circumstances a little longer, downed the last of his drink, and departed, telling both Morn and Quark, "Thanks, guys, I think I know what to do now." Finally leaving the reddish-orange glow of Quark's bar, as well as the noise and the smells of food, he made his way to Garak's quarters, where he was sure to find the "plain and simple" tailor at this time of night. He was pretty certain that Garak would be awake, but he was hoping that he might have had some time to relax tonight.

Garak heard the door chime for his quarters, and stood from the bed in which he was reading some Cardassian poetry that he hoped to introduce to Bashir at some point. "Come in." His tone was neither friendly nor angry, but perhaps slightly annoyed. As soon as he saw the slim figure of Bashir, though, his face softened, and he smiled. "Well, my dear Doctor, I must say this is quite a surprise, especially this time of night. Were you in need of emergency pajamas? I see you're still donning your uniform, and you have been off duty for at least 4 hours now." Garak continued his smile, with his eyes flashing in the friendly-yet-devious manner that the doctor was used to receiving from him. 

I don't wear....." Julian started but realized that he fell into the trap, with a significant amount of blush coloring his cheeks. He looked down, and with somewhat feigned embarrassment, asked, "I was hoping that you might accompany me to Quark's for a drink or two tonight. I've been drinking the occasional glass of kanar, and thought that it might be nice to drink from the same bottle for a change." Bashir was hoping that his proposal wasn't too forward, but then there was the even greater likelihood of it not being forward enough. The little that he knew of Cardassian courtship seemed an awful lot like a Klingons' courtship, but he dared not to mention this revelation to Garak, lest he push away his most entertaining and enigmatic friend. Suddenly finding himself with a retort for Garak's previous comment, and thinking about the Cardassian need for argument in courtship, he added, "You have no business asking about how I dress for sleep anyway, Garak."

"Well, Doctor, if you're going to get so protective over your clothing, or lack thereof, in front of a tailor, one might wonder what was being hidden from view!" Garak raised his eye ridges, and flashed that ever-so-familiar smile, hoping to prompt a quick and argumentative response from the doctor, but to no effect. "And in response to your question, my dear, I was actually just going to see how the replicated kanar tastes here, I finally ran out of my supply. Quark was supposed to have a new case shipped in a few days ago for me, but apparently his supply is a little less reliable than he had let on at the time of my order. I should talk to him about a discount from the price, actually. Apparently I can be quite persuasive when the need arises, but I digress. Doctor, I do know that Quark keeps a special vintage behind his counter, for special occasions." The part about the special vintage was pure speculation on Garak's part; he actually was just working from the assumption that Quark had special vintages of all his most popular drinks, so it stood to reason that he'd have one of kanar. Garak was also hoping that it wasn't as old as the occupation of Bajor, which would promise a smooth drink, but deliver a painfully soured experience.

"Well, perhaps I _do_ need something to wear, then, if we're going out. Might I inquire about a tailor's current stock, even after hours?" He was hoping this didn't quite sound as if he was insinuating something that he wasn't sure if his friend was ready to hear. "Should we stop by your shop or just by my quarters, Garak?" 

"Oh, I'm afraid my business is closed for the night, Doctor. We'll have to take a look to see what _is_ in your wardrobe. I'm sure there must be _something_ to suit the occasion." Garak's comment made him sound as though he was sure that the doctor wouldn't be able to dress himself even if given explicit instructions on how to do so. He thought to himself, _It may actually be your saving grace that you're forced to don that absolutely horrendous uniform day in and day out... if it was up to him to responsibly dress himself, he might find himself the laughing stock of the station_. The thought made him chuckle aloud, but Bashir didn't notice.

They both walked at a dawdler's pace to Bashir's quarters, taking their time, and walking at a close enough distance side-by-side to give the appearance of a couple, but it was entirely unintentional. From time to time, the doctor's hand would brush the tailor's, or vice-versa, though neither of them said anything or did anything about it when it happened. When they finally arrived, it felt as if a half hour had passed, though the journey through the sterile hallways wasn't nearly that long. Assuring himself that he made the correct decision, he approached his quarters, and the door slid open, allowing the men to enter.

"Computer -- lights, 40% brightness." Bashir wasted little time walking through his spartan quarters, heading straight to the closet. He was there for a purpose and didn't want to ruin his chances of taking Garak for a drink, which was definitely a step closer to what he wanted. Lunches were one thing; that's something that even coworkers do without a second thought, and drinks were another thing that coworkers did, but usually right after a shift. This had a different tone set to it, and he knew that his friend had the wherewithal to understand that, at least, since Garak was always a step ahead of him in the first place.

He was hoping that Quark remembered the arrangement that he had made with him more than a month ago. In addition to coaching him on kanar palatability, he and the Ferengi bartender had discussed the possibility of preparing a private table for him and Garak, and told him that if he saw the human and Cardassian enter together, late at night, wearing off-duty clothing, then a private table with his finest kanar should be prepared and waiting, with a formal place setting. The excitement of the whole ordeal made the doctor nervous; he was experiencing the same feeling that he had when Garak first approached him at the replimat.

Standing in the doctor's quarters, the two of them meandered to the closet, and Bashir felt as if he needed to push things a little further. "Well.... my dear ... frie-end, I seem to be ....lost... on what to wear to go ...out with such an _esteemed tailor_ as yourself. Might you... have any suggestions on a good... pairing? I ...rarely get to enjoy time in off-duty clothes." Bashir could have kicked himself over his nervous stammering, and to hide his face, he opened the door and peered into his small closet, with his right hand hanging on the doorway, looking inside and to the right. Bashir's left hand was thumbing through his somewhat sparse selection of shirts and pants. His head was obscured at the moment that Garak decided to look into the closet as well, and placed his right hand on top of the doctor's right hand, his right arm around his back, and gazed in the direction the doctor was looking. Garak noticed the flushed tones of Bashir's face, but didn't comment. Even more, he noticed the pheromones emanating from the doctor, and he took a deep breath of the young, manly scent, thinking to himself, _"He doesn't even have the faintest idea of what's going on, the poor doctor. If he did, he would run away from me, as fast as possible._

"Well, my dear Doctor, I am sure that we can find you something that isn't ... _quite_ ... as reprehensible as that ghastly uniform you wear so proudly." Garak's tone was sickly-sweet; his disdain for the Federation's control of Bajoran space nearly detectable, but mostly trying to provoke a reaction from the doctor to amuse himself. Bashir had let the two hands touching go unnoticed, and cleared his throat, knowing that Garak had set yet another trap, and willingly succumbing to it, in order to continue their careful dance of courtship. "Your suggestion, tailor?"

"Doctor, go sit on your bed. I will return with something suitable." Garak, now alone at the closet, thumbed through the selections available and chose some light brown and thick straight-legged pants with a salmon undershirt, and a darker brown jacket with almond colored stitching on the outside. The pairing went well together, even though it was the first time Bashir would see the pieces combined in that manner. Garak presented the clothes to Bashir, and he took them.

"Thank you, Garak, now if you would lend me a bit of privacy whilst I change into this _fine_ ensemble, I would be grateful." Garak moved to the doorway, and stood, looking away, being sure to respect the man's desire for privacy, or at least give the appearance of doing so. The attraction of the young man's figure had more sway over Garak's desires than he wanted to have let known.

Bashir's near silence, caused by nervousness, had led Garak to believe that he might not be feeling up to having kanar together tonight, but he remained silent on the issue. Garak had been hoping that he'd have this opportunity as soon as he had met the doctor, though he didn't want to scare the young man away from him; the nervousness he displayed when it seemed that people thought of them as a couple was endearing, but also annoying. His customers were consistent in their prodding for details as to whether they were romantically or sexually involved, and he chose to give each inquiry a different answer. The obfuscation was useful in many ways, because it kept their attention elsewhere. Besides, it was amusing to see how the questions changed throughout the week. People undoubtedly talked to one another, especially Bajorans and their gossip about the local exiled Cardassian, and when their false stories were all mixed up, they'd come back in for clarification. When that happened, Garak was both able to attempt to garner another purchase from the potential customer, and he would spin them yet another falsehood, delivered with a smile.

"I haven't worn this shirt in ages, Garak. I'm glad to get some use out of it," Bashir was breaking the silence while walking forward toward his friend. He buttoned part of his jacket, and Garak spun around, and deftly unbuttoned Bashir's progress on the jacket. "It's better this way, Doctor, trust me." His tone commanded Bashir's compliance.

"Shall we?" While Bashir was ready for a drink, he also wanted to get something other than synthehol in his system, and he knew he needed something to take the edge off. His nerves were going to kill him at this rate. 

The two walked in close step together to the turbolift, rode it to the promenade, and began heading to Quark's bar. Bashir was practically thrumming with excitement, and Garak was trying to ignore it. He could feel Bashir's excitement; it was electrifying the air. Garak noticed that Bashir added a spicy cologne that mixed with his natural scent in a very sexy manner, and noticed that Bashir's pheromones had definitely kicked in. He breathed in the scent deeply, smiled quietly to himself, then stated, "You seem to wear that ensemble as if it was tailored for you, Bashir." 

"Is that so, Garak? It wouldn't have something to do with such a skilled eye doing the decision making, would it?" Bashir was hoping that his thinly-veiled flirtation was being noticed, but occasionally the tailor would look to find so much deeper meaning in a sentence, that he missed what was on the surface. 

"Indeed, doctor. It's part of what I do for those who seek the patronage of plain and simple tailor services at my shop." The twinkle in his eye made it quite obvious that Garak wouldn't go quite so far with an ensemble as he did with that outfit for Bashir. 

"You know as well as I do, and everyone else on this station, that you are quite a bit more than just the plain and simple tailor that you make yourself out to be, Garak. Pretending to be otherwise even after it's obvious makes it practically an insult! You do remember how I went to see Enabran Tain on your behalf, correct?" Bashir was hoping to use that experience as a provocation to get more out of the tailor than usual. 

"You see, Doctor, your obsession for this thing called the truth leads you to some of the most fanciful ideas. Of course Enabran Tain would have access to the medical knowledge necessary to help with that corrective procedure you performed on me regarding that implant." Garak made sure that he continued denying his involvement in the Obsidian Order, because it made things a little more interesting. 

"Yes, of course, Garak. You're a tailor, and a gardener, and whatever else you're saying you are." Bashir wanted to make sure that Garak knew that whatever the Cardassian said about his past, it would still be understood that he was involved with the Obsidian Order.

They were both becoming a little more animated with what they were talking about, but the conversation was paused abruptly due to their arrival at the front door of Quark's bar.

Slipping inside the doorway with Garak close behind, Bashir scanned the large room, seeking out Quark's face. He found the short, large lobed man at the far end, clearing tables and harassing the Dabo girls who were not yet on shift, talking to each other and giggling. It seemed that Quark didn't want them giggling unless it brought more latinum out of Dabo players. When Garak was following Bashir to the staircase, Bashir kept trying to catch Quark's gaze and they finally connected, and Quark's face lit up - he knew that he would be paid well for good treatment when the two men were having whatever private conversation they wanted to have. If it goes extremely well, they might be interested in a specialized holosuite, and he had several ideas in mind that would suit the needs of both men, whether they were looking to share in an adventure, or just looking for a warm, relaxing place to enjoy each other's company. Rather than caring much about what they might be interested in doing, he rather thought in terms of the gold-pressed latinum that their potential relationship could bring. People in love spent a lot more than single people.

As the two ascended the staircase, they found a table setting with two glasses and a bottle of kanar, with a fine tablecloth underneath. Garak and Bashir sat down, one on each side of the small table. Garak's eyes were gleaming as he picked up the unopened bottle and read the label, surprised at the fine vintage that it contained, and appraising the value of such a bottle. Unstopping the bottle with swift and experienced hands, he poured a half glass for each of them and noticed that there was nobody around in the immediate vicinity.

"Why, Doctor, it seems as if you had planned this all along, because I certainly didn't say anything to Quark, unless he's developed a more sophisticated surveillance system that I should ..." his eyes flashed dangerously, " _probably have a conversation with him about_."

"Garak, I think you should probably just leave Quark alone. We have a saying back home, 'Never anger those who handle your food and your spirits,' and I think that holds true here, as well."

"Perhaps you're correct, though having him second-guessing his surveillance methods wouldn't hurt anything would it?" Garak seemed excited at the thought of making the Ferengi bartender frightened enough to prostrate. The idea was positively amusing for him. His reputation wasn't completely inflated.

Bashir decided that it was time to take a drink. The sip he took of the thick kanar slid into his mouth, where he did his best to savor the many layers of flavor within the drink. He smiled and looked up at his table-mate. Garak decided to start their conversation. "So, doctor, tell me how your latest sampling of fine Cardassian literature is treating you."

"Well, Garak, as I told you before, the plots are definitely predictable. I am pleased with the current novella that I'm reading, though, 'The Struggle of the Soldier.' It reminds me a little of Cyrano de Bergerac, from ancient Earth literature. Have I shared that piece with you, Garak? It's a play, rather than prose or poetry, as we've been sharing with each other so far. It's quite different from what you've given me so far, since it's not directly about the State prevailing. I enjoy that it's regarding the personal conflict that the single soldier is having within himself, trying to find a wife to marry, and start a family, but fearing he was too ugly. The difference with yours is in the resolution of his problem, with his ultimate reliance on the State run marital guidance committee to pair him with a woman." Their pace slowed somewhat with the pace of their conversation.

"Doctor, what you point out is the ultimate difference in our literature choices; the ability of the State to provide solutions to our problems is a source of pride for our people, and therefore is a recurring and inextricable subject matter, as well as the focus for most of our _popular_ literature. Once you're able to understand that joy, you'll be able to understand the concepts within our dissenting literature. However, it's important to understand that without a complete understanding of the culture in which we're coming from, the ability to understand the literature of our dissenters and deserters is practically non-existent." 

Bashir was ready to change the topic to something more productive to his own interests. "So, my dear tailor, it seems as though we have a mutual interest that might need a discussion."

"Perhaps you're correct, doctor. We have many mutual interests, though I'm wondering which one you're thinking about, since we already discussed the literature." His smile indicated that he had an idea. "Literature, for example, doctor, is an interest we both take quite seriously."

"Well, of course we do. If there was another subject we had an interest in though it hadn't been adequately explored, what would you think of tackling that topic tonight?" Bashir was hoping that he was getting the hint, but he wanted to make sure that the stage was set for what was to come next.

"I'm assuming you mean the lack of options within your wardrobe, Doctor. It's hardly fitting to prance around as if you were the most attractive man on the station without wearing something worth looking at. I did actually mean it when I told you that you needed to buy a suit. Have you seen the contents of your miserable closet? Actually looked at them? The fashions are outdated even for a Terran!" Garak was animated, not needing the help of the kanar to loosen his practiced and sharp tongue. He had picked up on what Bashir was hinting at, and wasn't interested in waiting. Color was moving into his shoulder ridges, indicating his interest.

Bashir was excited. Everything that he had read about Cardassian courtship was indeed making sense. He had to continue in the argument in order to arouse Garak's interest further, or else he would be seen as an unworthy partner, unable to hold his own in a simple conversation. "Garak, my wardrobe is perfectly within the times. Minimalism works at every point in history, here on the station, on Earth, or practically any other place in the quadrant! Trying to insult my dress, well it's easy to criticize anything from your ivory tower, but my clothing options are quite practical and enjoyable. You, being the first to complain about it, obviously believe that you can dress a human better than a human himself! What would you expect me to wear, a selection of strangely-stitched patchwork such as what you wear yourself?" Bashir's eyes were dilating, and his heartrate had increased, among the things that Garak noticed about him. Bashir seemed to be enjoying this as much as he was, so he poured a second helping of kanar for the both of them.

Bashir's mind was racing. Would he finally be able to get the one man he wanted but never pursued? He started fantasizing, but in a flash he was back to the present. He kept wondering what about his Cardassian physiology and experience as a spy would make Garak a different lover than the other older men he ravaged on a semi-regular basis. With the constant influx of visitors to the station, Bashir's eclectic tastes were always able to be met, but the riskiest of his potential conquests was Garak, perhaps from what he both knew and didn't know about him, but also because of the blatant interest the Cardassian showed in him at their first meeting.

 _If Garak had shown this interest, why, then, hadn't he pursued it further,_ Bashir thought to himself. _Well, he's siting across from me now..._ Bashir not-so-subtly moved his chair around the table, next to Garak's. It surprised the tailor, because he didn't state his intent, nor did he explain his actions afterward. "And if you had such a problem with what I wore, was it cowardice or laziness that kept you from mentioning it before? It's not as if we never see each other," he forcefully whispered the last sentence in his angriest voice, hoping to bring more color to Garak's ridges.

"Well, Doctor, if you must know, it's because it's terribly amusing to see you try and dress yourself." Garak didn't skip a beat, hoping to elicit more from the doctor, but also continued, because nothing frustrated Bashir more than having to wait to make a point, "In fact, with your infantile dressing mannerisms, I've been able to come up with a hefty catalog of what people should never pair together when attempting to be fashionable. The selections that I show, with your face redacted, of course, make my clients giggle at your shame." He knew that he had pushed the right buttons when Bashir stood up.

"So that's what you think, is it, you scaly bastard?" He was hoping that his actual anger paired with a few insults would push Garak further into his desire, because it was impossible for Bashir to hide his. On Bashir's body, thick rod, pressed firmly against his pelvis, would have surely been noticed, if they had any company in the area. Garak's eyes flitted to Bashir's erection for a split second, and a deeper hue colored his ridges. "If I wasn't so determined to finish this bottle, I'd leave you here by yourself. For all of your training in getting information out of others, you are still incapable of asking me the simplest, straightforward question." He sat down with that, and gave a huff of feigned exasperation. _If I would have known how fun courting a Cardassian would be, I would have started this business long ago_ , Bashir thought to himself.

"Bashir, I didn't think you'd leave an old man to suffer at the hands of a half-full bottle of kanar, would you?" Garak genuinely allowed his sense of humor to show, because it was obvious to the man that this human was definitely getting into more than he should have wanted to.

"My determination comes from the fact that I overpaid Quark for it, so that it might be ready at the drop of a hat, but you can't even appreciate the effort that someone might go through to arrange this, or even to conveniently arrange once-a-week lunches _during my shift_ to be had at _your_ convenience, as if I couldn't find someone else to dine with!"

"Dine, no, but how many other once-through replimat visitors have we had that make it to your bed? You couldn't hold yourself to a relationship, even with negotiated infidelity, if it landed in your lap, and it has, my dear Doctor, it has, but you're simply too blind to see it, because your mind only thinks of what you can have now, and in the moment, rather than what your future plans might hold." Garak had actually hit a nerve with the doctor, who, at this point, was about to give in. Garak had other plans, though.

Garak stood up with a huff, and forcibly grabbed Julian by the elbow, allowing him no other option other than to stand. Stacking the two now-empty glasses in on each other, and grabbing the half-finished bottle of kanar in the same hand, showing that he may have had some practice with that specific maneuver, he led Bashir down the stairs and out of the bar without even acknowledging the presence of the snide little Ferengi man. Quark would bill either of them, or perhaps both of them, for anything left unpaid, he was sure.

Making Bashir walk at a swifter pace than usual, Garak led them both to his own quarters, as his place was more furnished and Garak had a larger bed. Hissing a whisper into Julian's ear, he said, "Doctor, I sure hope you know what you've gotten yourself into, because at this point, there's no going back. I'll take it you've never bedded a Cardassian, but I'm reasonably certain that you have read a little of what goes on. The time for polite niceties is over, if you hadn't figured that out by now, my dear." The way Garak ended that sentence was sinister at best.

Bashir found himself being pushed onto Garak's bed, with the larger man then holding him down at the shoulders. Bashir's heart rate was through the roof, he counted himself at about 140 beats per minute, and though he tried breathing deeply to calm himself, what the tailor did next nearly sent him into a state of blissful shock.

Garak snarled hungrily and bit into Bashir's right trapezius muscle, though not enough to draw blood, but making his arm twitch slightly, which was felt by the Cardassian. He was still being held by the weight of Garak's hand on his shoulder. Garak gave a heavy whisper to Bashir, "Do you know what you've done to me? I haven't had this kind of yearning for years. And your teasing throughout our lunches has gotten nearly unbearable, my dear doctor. The amount of verbal sparring you enjoy during our weekly meetings is something that's unprecedented in what I know of your species, though, of course, it's still quite a limited ability you have."

With that bite into his shoulder, Julian cried out in both ecstasy and pain, as he didn't often have a partner that would play as rough as he liked, and he never had developed a preference for the dominant or submissive role. As long as there was action, then he was happy with what he had. His arms and hands were nearly immobile, but he was able to unbutton his pants and slide them off his hips with a swift motion that impressed Garak. Hopefully the neediness in his eyes and the action he just took communicated enough without words that he would get what he wanted.

"Patience, patience, my beautiful doctor, you're quite hasty with everything you do, aren't you?" Garak was halfway talking to himself at this point. Bashir was out of his mind with desire, and just moaned and let his cock do the talking for him. Garak lowered himself onto the doctor, straddling him, and effectively sitting on his erection which was completely parallel to his body. He could feel the heat emanating from Bashir's already warm and supple body, and was enjoying every inch of it.

"But Garak, we're both here now, we don't need to be patient anymore," Bashir's plea was nearly a whine. 

"Call me Elim when we're this close, doctor," Garak interrupted the doctor at his last syllable, and while his words sounded calm, the Cardassian's actions weren't. He let up on Bashir's shoulders just long enough to slip him out of the jacket and shirt with the kind of skill that only a tailor could have. Bashir was now nearly naked underneath the Cardassian.

"I've always wondered what it was like to have a body so ....smooth..." Garak was crooning at this point, running his grey fingers lightly over Julian's pinned body, no longer bothering to hold his shoulders down. Straddling the thin man's hips seemed to work just as well. Suddenly, the passionate flame was back within his blue eyes. He took in a deep breath and he grabbed Bashir's shoulders and bit the left trapezius with the same amount of desire that the first bite had. The marks that the Cardassian left on the human's body were swelling, an auburn-brown showing against the deep tan of Bashir's complexion.

Bashir realized that if he wanted any more out of this encounter, that he had to resume his resistance to the tailor, even though he was incredibly willing. Perhaps it was the pretense of conquering a younger man that kept Garak interested. Whatever it was, Bashir didn't care, and decided to act on his needs. 

Using his mostly-hidden genetically engineered strength, he used his hips to lift Garak a few inches higher off of the bed, and slipped his legs out from under him with inhuman speed. Then he turned the tables on his would-be conquest and repeated the same actions to his friend that were performed on him, pinning the Cardassian by the shoulders and straddling him. He sank his teeth into Garak's neckridge as hard as he could, making Garak grunt loudly, his eyes wide and the Cardassian started to thrum. He then repeated on the other side, to the same effect, with the sound coming from Garak's throat becoming even louder. Blue-grey color was flushing into the area all over the ridges he could see. But, instead of leaving it at the two bites, he continued, alternating with left and right, till he didn't feel like taking such a long break between his mawings. He started at the base of the left ridge, and bit it hard. Garak was willing and writhing under him, clawing at his bare back with his fingertips, making Bashir arch his spine every time he did.

"Take your clothes off," Bashir hissed, "Or I'll rip them off, and I doubt you want your fancy creations torn to shreds." Garak quickly complied with the request as Bashir let him up. Exposing himself in this manner to a non-Cardassian wasn't something that he engaged in often, and not just because it could be shocking to those of smoother bodies. The pattern of ridges amazed Bashir, and he thought to himself, _How could I have not had this beautiful man sooner?_

Seeing the expanse of artistically-presented ridge swirls and scales on his lover's body, Bashir quickly had Garak pinned down again, not wanting to waste any time with what his ultimate goal was: gaining the release he desired. He set to work, nibbling on some, gnawing on others, letting Garak forcefully grunt in his ear. He ran his tongue along the ridges he had already marked with is perfect teeth, and aligned his painfully hard erection up to Garak's partially everted, but heavily lubricated penis, rubbing them together with quick movements of his hips. During this, Garak was hardly able to contain himself, and every chance he got, he would grab the doctor and kiss him hard on the mouth, or bite one of his shoulders again. For leverage, his fingers were alternating from their hold on the pale man's shoulders, to his arms, and occasionally clasping the Cardassian's sides.

Bashir's quick movements soon developed into full-fledged frottage, helping Garak's penis evert even more fully than it was before. The similar lengths inspired Bashir's thinking - he was certain that his half-developed plan would work now. Moving between roughly humping Garak's pelvis with his own, he focused on the ridges he hadn't touched yet, but his patience was wearing thin. Garak seemed shocked, as he was speechless except for the moans that escaped his mouth and the constant thrum from the back of his throat. 

Bashir shifted his position and instead of making his cock slide next to his lovers' barbed hardness, he slid up a little further, allowing Garak's cock to slide between his tight asscheeks. "Doctor, do you know what you're doing? I don't think you understand what will happen.." Garak's words faded with the sensation of his penis being trapped between the tight cheeks of his lover.

Bashir cut him off before he could finish. "Elim, I need your cock inside me. I need to feel you throb. I don't think I can release until I feel you, so that's what's going to happen." 

Bashir was hoping that Garak's natural lubricant would make the transition from frottage easy. He felt the texture of Garak's cock at his asshole, nearly pushing it inside of himself accidentally before he was ready. A few more strokes and he'd be there, though. He relaxed his sphincter, and with a deep breath, he lowered himself to where he was practically laying on top of his lover, but moved his body backwards slowly, allowing Garak's barbed, reptilian cock to pierce into his body with a slight pop, and the relief that he felt immediately afterwards showed on the human's face. Garak's expression changed, too, with a softer expression donning his face, and a slight smile curving his lips upward.

Bashir wasn't sure when their arguments turned into near-silent lovemaking, but he knew that he enjoyed being able to focus purely on the pleasures of the flesh. He finished lowering himself onto Garak's cock and commenced fucking himself with it. Garak, no longer speechless, watched as Bashir's penis throbbed with his quickened heart rate, and saw how the hard member was bouncing with Bashir's actions. He thought quickly about what might feel good to a human male, and reached out to help Bashir climax. Imagining what he would look like with a stream of alien semen on his chest, Garak smiled. His ability to indulge in his stranger proclivities had been lessened since his exile, which made him even more enthusiastic about the activities of the night. He wrapped a cool, scaly hand around the head of Bashir's cock, raised his hips higher, and tugged the human's penis in a fast back-and forth manner. The action that Garak had just taken had made him even closer to the edge. "Julian, if you continue at this rate, I won't last much longer." Garak's words were quiet, but Julian made sure he replied in a manner that was easy to understand. "I want you to drain your seed inside of me, Elim. I need it inside me." 

Saying that to Garak nearly drove him insane. He let go of Bashir's throbbing cock and grabbed the younger man's hips, holding their link together. "If you want to fuck a Cardassian, you need to be able to take me at my best." Bashir was shocked at the language that the tailor used, as he was normally so well composed. Apparently the debauchery of the night had affected his verbiage. 

Garak then slid off of the bed, holding Bashir in his strong arms, and laid the man on the bed, reversing their positions. Pinning Bashir down with the palm of his left hand right over the human's sternum, and holding his slim hip with the other, digging his fingers deep into the flesh, Garak fucked the man with such raw enthusiasm that Bashir was certain he'd be torn beyond repair. The speed in which the older Cardassian pounded his lover surprised Bashir, but he was definitely enjoying the attention, as the amount of precum leaking from the human's bobbing cock was unprecedented, even in the kind of well-established sexual history that Bashir had. Garak continued with the furious pounding, the thrum getting louder and louder, with Bashir certain that anyone in adjoining quarters would be under the quite clear impression of what was happening. With each thrust, Bashir and Garak both grunted and moaned with inane enthusiasm. 

With a moaning howl from Bashir as he felt the first spasms of Garak's orgasm, and a simultaneous roar from the grey-skinned man, Bashir's apex was triggered, and they both simultaneously allowed their complete enjoyment of each others' ultimate climax. Both of the men were capable of multiple orgasms on any normal rendezvous, but with this instance, it was the fulfillment of a single desire held for such a long time, that there was no hope for immediate recovery with either of them. 

Remaining docked inside the younger man's anus, he held the man close to his chest, and breathed his scent in, laying them both down on the bed. Their heartbeats were loud to both sets of ears, and they just lay there, listening to each other breathe. The barbed head of the Cardassian's cock would only allow their separation after a period of recuperation, so it was better to keep thier bodies tightly interwoven.

Each man had their arms wrapped around each other, and Garak's flexible penis allowed them to stay face-to-face while he was still inside him, without putting any additional stress on Bashir's now-sensitive rectum. The throbbing feeling of Garak's orgasm was still being felt by Bashir, and he loved having that inside of him. 

"Elim, you're the best ..." Garak cut him off, "Doctor, please tell me a lie. I find them so much more interesting." "Then, Elim, you'll find yourself notched on my bedpost next to the other Cardassians I've bedded, which is right above the Ferengi, the Andorians, and the Bajorans. I am _ever_ so glad to have met your acquaintance." The older man smiled; Bashir was definitely an excellent student.

**Author's Note:**

> pardon my paragraph formatting issues, I'm still learning this system.
> 
> and please, constructive criticism is quite welcome. :)


End file.
